


Worth The Stuffy Nose

by Nikolaus_Chaser



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cats, Christmas Eve, F/M, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 01:50:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8309143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolaus_Chaser/pseuds/Nikolaus_Chaser
Summary: Castiel's cat goes missing after he and Dean host a Christmas party at their house.





	

“You and Cas are coming over for presents tomorrow, right?” Sam leans against the porch railing, bright icicle lights hanging above his head and illuminating his face as he waits for Dean’s answer.  Little puffs of steam appear in front of his face with every breath he takes, and a chilly December breeze ruffles his long hair.  It snowed earlier in the day, and a thin layer of frost covers the sidewalk beyond the porch.  Dean hasn’t gotten the chance to shovel yet, and probably won’t do so until later on tomorrow.  He supposes it’s alright though; the chances of anybody slipping on his sidewalk are slim to none, and the snow only serves to brighten the cheerful winter ambience.  It is Christmas Eve, after all.

“A’course,” Dean answers, a smile lighting up his rosy face.  “I’ve gotta warn you, though— Cas went a little crazy at the Toys R Us.  We’ve got about a truck-load of toys ‘n crap for that little squirt of yours.”

Sam laughs.  “She’ll be happy.  Though I’m not sure exactly where we’re gonna fit the stuff.  Y’all spoil her so much we’re gonna have to start throwing toys away.”

“She’s just so friggin’ cute, Sam!” Dean argues, a blush rising on his already flushes cheeks.  Sam huffs, a big cloud of smoke appearing in front of his face, and as he waves it away he checks his watch.  He hisses through his teeth, and Dean steps forward.  “You gotta go?”

“Yeah.  Speaking of Mary, it’s way passed her bedtime, and Jess and I still have to wrap some presents when we get home,” he chuckles, reaching out and clapping Dean on the arm.  “Thanks for having us over tonight, though.  Everyone had a blast.”

“Thanks for comin’.  And I’ll tell Cas you said so too, he was cookin’ for this all day.”  He embraces his brother, patting him on the back.  “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait,” Sam says, turning and walking down the pathway, towards his car.  Jess is already waiting for him in the running SUV, busy trying to calm an overtired baby Mary.  His footsteps leave dark imprints in the snow, and Dean watches until his brother gets into the car before he turns and heads back into his house.

He makes his way towards the living room, his mind already racing with the list of chores he and Cas need to finish before they’ll be able to go to bed.  It’s not too late—only just passed midnight— but Dean is tired from hosting guests all night and is ready to hit the sack.  At least they’re friends didn’t leave that much of a mess; they’ll probably just need to run the vacuum really quickly and do the dishes, and they’ll be fine.  Then he can snuggle up with Cas in their warm bed and finally go to sleep.

When Dean comes into the living room, he needs to stop and do a double-take in the doorway.  When he’d gone downstairs to see everybody off, the room had been mostly clean, aside from a few stray cups and plates, and some crumbs that had fallen on the floor.  It really hadn’t been that big of a mess.  Now, as Dean takes in the deracinated state of the room, his jaw drops.  There are couch cushions all over the floor, and the actual couch is tipped over on its side, the springs and metal bars on the bottom exposed for the whole room to see.  The coffee table is also tipped over and leaning on its side.  Luckily there doesn’t appear to be any food spilled on the carpet, but the upturned furniture still begs the question of what exactly is going on.

“Cas?” Dean calls his husband’s name, unsure of where he is.  He’s also not entirely sure if he wants to know what the big mess is all about, but he’s also the one who’s probably going to wind up cleaning up, so he has a right to know.

“Dean!” Castiel’s cry echoes down the hallway, and it takes Dean a few seconds to realize that his voice is coming from the attach.  Eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, Dean heads over to the stairs and calls again.

“Babe?  You alright up there?”

“Dean! No!” He yells back, but before Dean can get too panicked, his husband appears on the stairwell looking disheveled and upset.  A quick look up and down Cas’s body indicates that he’s physically okay, and relief washes over Dean, only to be replaced by panic a moment later.  Cas looks like he’s about to cry.  Dean jogs up the stairs, meeting his husband halfway.

“Honey, what’s the matter?  What’s going on?”

“Sandman is gone!  I can’t find him anywhere,” Castiel laments, the pitch of his voice going up a few octaves, and he looks around, as if the little tabby is going to appear spontaneously on the carpet beside them.  “He’s not in any of his usual hiding places.  I don’t know where he could have gotten to.”

The cat in question— a tawny little fellow with piercing yellow eyes and one black paw— had appeared mysteriously at their back porch one morning about two months ago, mewling incessantly and scratching at their back door until they let him inside.  Castiel had immediately taken a liking to the little guy, bonding with him over milk and peanut butter crackers on the kitchen floor.  He had begged and begged Dean that they could keep him, and when nobody responding to their missing cat ads all over the neighborhood, he couldn’t exactly say no to his husband.  He was absolutely in love with the furry little dude, and no amount of allergies were going to keep him from making Cas happy.  He’d gone out to the store and bought about two years’ worth of Claritin, along with a litter box and a big bag of cat food. 

The thank-you sex Cas gave him that night was well worth the stuffy nose.

“Okay, let’s calm down,” Dean offers quickly, wrapping Cas up in a hug and tucking his head under his chin.  Cas presses his nose into Dean’s neck, sniffling, and grasps at Dean’s shirt with his fists.  “He was probably just scared by all the people we had over.  Did you check under our bed?”

“Of course I did!” Cas jerks back quickly, nearly smacking Dean in the face with the back of his head.  Dean backs up, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You didn’t flip the bed _over,_ did you?”

Cas scratches the back of his neck guiltily, and Dean groans.  “Dude, come on!  Did you have to flip over every piece of furniture in the house?”

His husband huffs, annoyed, and turns to go back downstairs towards the living room.  “Don’t worry Dean, I’ll put everything back where it is.  Right now we just need to find Sandman.  You don’t think he could have gotten outside, do you?”

“Honestly, Cas, I don’t know.  I don’t think the door was ever open for that long, and I never saw him slip out.” He follows Castiel into the kitchen, frowning when his husband gets on his knees and begins to dig through the cupboard below their sink.  Piles of pots and pans quickly begin to form around them, and Dean has to pinch the bridge of his nose to keep from lashing out.

“Cas, honey,” he starts patiently, “Do you really think he’s hiding in there?  There’s no way he could have even gotten the cupboard open.”

“What if he snuck in while I was cooking the spaghetti?” Cas retorts, his voice muffled as he searches through the darkness of the cabinet.  “Come to daddy, Sandman!” He calls.

“Did you find him?” Dean asks hopefully.  Cas pulls back, glaring at Dean over his shoulder and wiping his dirty hands on his pants.

“No, and you’re really not being helpful at all.  Why don’t you just go to bed, Dean?  I’ll find the cat on my own,” he says with a scowl on his face, turning back to face the cupboard and continue his search.  Dean scoffs, shaking his head as he gets down on his own knees and pushes Cas to the side.

“Oh, no, no, no. I am not letting this damn cat get me in trouble on Christmas Eve.  Move over, let me help,” he grumbles, reaching into the darkness and letting his hands wrap around a solid glass bowl.  He tugs it forward, making a face when he realizes that its covered in grease.  Most of these pots and pans haven’t been used in years.  He groans, wiping his hands on his pants and frowning over at Cas.

“You know what, on second thought, I’m gonna go look in the garage.  Maybe he slipped out the side door and is hiding under the Impala, or something.”

 

Two long, exhausting hours later found Dean and Cas sitting side by side on the floor of their trashed living room, Dean’s head resting on Cas’s shoulder and he struggled to stay awake.  They still hadn’t found Sandman, to Castiel’s dismay, and he couldn’t help but wonder where the little cat could have possibly run off to.  Dean was right— the doors had never been opened long enough for him to run out unnoticed.  He had to be in the house, but he and Dean had torn the entire place apart and still hadn’t found anything.  Sandman was nowhere to be found.

Cas’s fingers paused as he was stroking back and forth through Dean’s hair, and the young man cracked his eye half-open, looking up at Cas curiously.

“What if somebody took him?” He whispers, though he sounds doubtful of ever his own words.  “What if he’s been cat-napped.”

Dean made a quiet noise in the back of his throat, shifting against Cas so that his head was more propped up, and he could speak clearly.

“You’re not serious, are you, babe?  None of our friends would steal your cat.”

“Charlie said he was the cutest cat she’d ever seen.  She said she wanted one just like him.”

“Charlie _did not_ kidnap Sandman.”

“You never know, Dean,” he insisted, squinting down at his husband.  “And I didn’t say he was kidnapped.  I said _catnapped_.”

Dean groaned, rolling off of Castiel and forcing himself to his feet.  His knees popped as he stood up, and then he reached down to Castiel, offering a hand to help him stand.  “I think it’s time to go to bed, baby,” he said resignedly.  “We’ll find the cat tomorrow, I promise.  But right now, we’re both so exhausted… There’s no point in us going on like this.”

Castiel let out a heavy sigh, but even he couldn’t deny that Dean was right.  It wouldn’t do them any good to search for Sandman when they were both so exhausted and couldn’t think straight.  He let his fingers intertwine with Dean’s and the two of them began their trek back to their bedroom, Cas following dutifully behind Dean.

He’s surprised when Dean suddenly leaps backwards, screaming out in pain and knocking into him as he doubles backwards.  Castiel trips over him, and they both fall into a heap on the floor, scrambling to get up when they hear a tiny, soft, “meow”.

Dean yells “he scratched me!” at the same time that Cas yells, “the cat!”, and they struggle to disentangle themselves from each other.  Cas is the first one to hop up, and he rushes over to the source of the noise: the Christmas tree.  And there, beneath the bristling branches and shining icicle lights, crouched inside of a small, ornate present box, is Sandbox.  He hisses when Cas first approaches, but when he realizes who it is, he slowly makes his way out of the box.  He sidles up to Cas, crawling into his arms as Cas begins to cry tears of relief and exhaustion.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cries as Sandbox begins to lick his face, tasting his salty tears and purring against his cheek.  “Daddy was so worried about you.  Were you here the entire time?”

Dean, meanwhile, finally makes his way up from the floor.  There’s blood dripping down his leg, no doubt from where the cat scratched him, but he can’t even bring himself to care at this point.  It’s three o’clock in the morning on Christmas day, and all that he wants to do is sleep. 

He makes it to the bedroom like a zombie, and just as he crawls into bed, Castiel appears in the doorway with Sandman perched on his shoulder, the cat’s entire body wrapped around his neck like a ferret.  Dean squints at them from the bed; Castiel knows that Sandman isn’t allowed in their bedroom.  And the last thing that Dean needs after this hectic night is to wake up tomorrow morning with cat dander lodged in his nose.

“Dean?” Cas calls from the doorway, his voice small. “Can Sandman sleep with us tonight? Please?”

Dean sighs; he should have seen this coming.  He turns to Cas, ready to say no, but when he gets one look of his husband’s face he can’t bring himself to do it.  He sighs, nodding minutely and waving his husband over.

“Yeah, but hurry up, come on,” he mumbles.  Cas leaps forward, diving under the covers with him, and the cat cozies himself up right between them.  As the cat begins to purr, Dean figures it’s a good thing that at least _one_ of them is happy.  A scowl plasters itself on Dean’s face, and he’s almost surprised when he feels Cas’s lips pressing chastely against his own.

“I love you, Dean.”

A small smile tugs at his lips, and Dean sighs, closing his eyes and huddling closer to his husband for warmth.  “Merry Christmas, baby.”

He can feel as Cas smiles against his skin, pressing another kiss to his cheek as he whispers, “Merry Christmas.”

 _Yeah_ , Dean thinks, _this is worth the stuffy nose_.

**Author's Note:**

> Is it too early for Christmas? I don't think it's too early for Christmas.
> 
> Written as a writing exercise for my good friend James. He's not a fan of the show, but I suppose he's a fan of cats hiding in boxes? Idk. Hope you like it :)


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